


losses and gains and losses

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bugs & Insects, Character Death, Corpses, Dead People, Families of Choice, Family Dynamics, Father Figures, Flashbacks, Gen, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grief/Mourning, Gross, Kinda, Liam Greymane is a Worgen, Lord of His Pack, Loss of Parent(s), Mild Gore, Murder, Nightmares, No Incest, Non-Canonical Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Death, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Character Death, Talking To Dead People, Worgen, World of Warcraft: Cataclysm, Worms, fuck yall!!!!, i have never heard of talar oaktalon before today but here we are writing him, most of his lines are from lord of his pack, quotes from canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-01 20:03:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16771933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys
Summary: He dreamed of battle often. But this time, the scene changed.





	losses and gains and losses

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Boy Kings](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14431563) by [emrys (livingshitpost)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys). 



_The Forsaken think we're weak. A broken people. They think we'll roll over like scared dogs._

_How wrong they are._

_We will fight them in the fields until the last trench collapses and the last cannon is silenced!_

_We will fight them on the streets until the last shot is fired. And when there's no more ammunition, we'll crush their skulls with the very stones that pave our city!_

_We will fight them in the alleys until our knuckles are skinned and bloody and our rapiers lay in the ground shattered! And if we find ourselves surrounded and disarmed... wounded and without hope... We will lift our head in defiance and spit in their faces!_

_BUT WE WILL NEVER SURRENDER!_

_**FOR GILNEAS!** _

* * *

He dreamed of the battle that night.

Thunder had crashed above. The rain had made the Prince's hair cling to his face as he had whipped around to see the Banshee Queen taking aim at his father.

"FATHER!"

The King's cry hadn't really been out of pain; it had been filled with anger. He'd lunged forward, transforming, knocking the Sylvanas off her horse and pinning her to the ground. He'd snarled and ripped a chunk of flesh from her neck with his teeth. Blood had flowed from her wound and woven through the cobblestone streets, but she hadn't cried out. She had smiled. She had laughed as the fire began to leave his eyes and fear had bubbled to the surface.

" _FATHER!!!_ "

He'd been pulled from the elf and thrown aside as she'd stood. Liam's sword had clattered to the ground as he dropped to his father's side, taking his clawed hand. Sylvanas had said something, but he couldn't hear her over the clash of lightning and the blood pounding in his ears.

"Father, it's alright," he'd lied. "You'll be fine. We- we can fix this. You'll be alright, I promise-

The king had hushed his son. He'd reached up to cup his son's cheek and smiled weakly. 

"Father?"

"You will be a great king." His voice had barely been a whisper as the corners of his eyes crinkled with pride.

Mournful howls had pierced the darkening sky. The air had hung heavy around the Gilnean people, thick and suffocating, and Liam wanted nothing more than to run as he watched his father's eyes glaze over.

The king withered, face sinking, and began to dissolve as the rain pattered against his face. The thick, wet ash and dust clung to Liam's hands as the howling continued, only growing louder and louder, deafening, filling every corner of his mind as worms and maggots surfaced to writhe in what remained of his father, inching ever closer to him. His people fell into shadow around him, only their eyes remaining, all staring at him from the darkness.

He was grateful to open his eyes and see once more, but the weight of the day before still sat on his chest and made it difficult to breathe.

The rocking of the ancient Kaldorei ship might have been soothing, had the storm not riled the sea so much. His head still pounded. He lifted his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes with the heels. His shoulder throbbed from where one of the forsaken soldiers had struck him with her axe. He groaned, gripping it with his other hand, and a small whine escaped the back of his throat.

"Let me assist you, Lord Greymane. You have been through much these troubled days."

Liam's eyes snapped open. He sat up suddenly, a warm, dull ache spreading up his back, and he winced again, cursing under his breath. He arched his spine, finding no release from the pain, and panted softly.

"My apologies," the night elf said. "I did not mean to startle you."

Liam sighed. "It's fine, Talar," he said quietly. His voice was far gruffer than he would have liked; it sounded more animal than human. "I'm just on edge after what happened today. Surely you understand."

"I do," the elf assured him. "No offence is taken." He offered his hand.

"I appreciate the help." Liam stumbled a bit, still unused to the structure of his newly-transformed legs. "Is there something you need? I sense that I won't be sleeping much tonight." He almost smiled as he said it, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Talar didn't laugh. "I come with more poor news, honourable king. You are needed on the deck. . . . Our danger persists."

Liam followed as Talar hurried up the winding staircase to the deck. Had he not been in such a hurry, he would have stopped to marvel at the intricacies of the wooden carvings.

"It seems Gilneans are quite stubborn, Lord Greymane," Talar all but grumbled. He was clearly tense.

"My father always said that it was one of our greatest qualities."

"Yes, I can see that you take great pride in it."

Liam stifled an exasperated growl. "Talar, you and your people have been gracious to help us, and I am more grateful than I can put into words, but you are holding something back. I've sensed your suspicion since we first met, and I only ask that you speak to me truthfully."

"I apologize, Lord Greymane. I . . ." Talar sighed. "Azeroth is in peril, Your Majesty, It is a time that I fear we may not see through unless we stay truly bound. Your father was a ruler who chose to segregate his entire kingdom from the rest of the continent. Your father was a king who refused requests for aid over the years. You see, I am a druid. I believe in the interconnectivity of all things. It is the way nature is shaped. An ecosystem. The choices he made are . . . foreign to me."

"Perhaps your differences with my father are- well, would have been great, but I am not him. We mustn't let them divide us."

Talar nodded gently. "They certainly shall not. Archdruid Stormrage believes that you and your people will be an important asset to the Alliance. I would not question his wisdom."

"An asset?" Liam nearly stopped in his tracks. "My people owe yours their very lives, but I'm not sure we will serve as a worthy asset. There aren't many of us left, and with our kingdom gone . . ." 

"This is unfortunate to hear. But these are political matters. Our business is to survive this day."

The sky was still dark, for the most part. The sun pierced the clouds before being swallowed by the horizon. The sea air flooded his nose and the back of his throat tasted as if he'd just swallowed a salt lick. The squawk of gulls made his fur bristle and his head pound, but he did his best to ignore them and focus on what Talar was telling him.

Violet-skinned elves bustled about all around them, preparing the ship for the encroaching storm, but he could make out his own people among them, worgen and unafflicted alike.

"As you can see, King, they intend to partake in preparations and ignore the orders given. They have refused my call for all non-deckhands to go below."

Liam's eyes roamed the deck. Two sentinels by the bow were trying to pull a worgen away from the rigging, but he shrugged them off repeatedly and shoved a third out of the way to resume his unwanted help.

"You must understand that the mission we were sent on was not originally to bring the remaining populace of a nation back to Darnassus. It was to assist with the worgen. We are already stretched thin. Look out there. This is no mere squall. We may be facing our greatest obstacle yet," Talar continued.

"I understand," Liam said.

Liam knew that the other Kaldorei ships were likely facing the very same problems. One of them, the _Elune's Radiance_ , held his mother and sister; his family. He felt a pang in his chest as he was forced to consider his family without his father. It was still the greater pain over losing his home. 

* * *

They had arrived in Darnassus several days ago, but the oceans still proved to be too treacherous to travel to Stormwind by boat. Liam had stayed with his people in the Howling Oak, helping the other afflicted Gilneans to gain control over their condition, and enjoying the fact that he at least appeared human once more. His mother fussed over the scars still on his face from when the worgen had attacked him. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Mother," he said with a smile, "I'm _fine_. They're not going to kill me. They don't even hurt."

"Oh, hush," she replied, moving on to undress the slowly healing gash in his shoulder. "It's my job to worry about you."

He rolled his eyes and turned the page of his book. "It's healing in its own time, is all," he reasoned. "Come to think of it, I don't think Father's scar from when he was attacked ever truly healed, did it?"

His mother sighed. "No, it didn't, but his wasn't on his _face_. You must understand that this will greatly change people's perceptions of you, and of our people, with you as our king."

"I know, Mother." He rubbed the page between his thumb and forefinger.

"Lorna said she thinks they make you look more handsome," Tess remarked from where she sat cleaning her daggers. "More of a rugged bad boy look."

"And what do you think, Tessie?"

"She's still hotter than you could ever hope to be."

Liam laughed. "What if I got a few more piercings, hm? What then?"

Mia paused her cleaning of Liam's shoulder. "Absolutely not-"

"No," Tess interrupted, "that could work. Maybe then you could finally find a consort."

"You say that as if I haven't' been looking."

"You misunderstand, dearest brother! I say it as if everyone you've asked has turned you down for one reason or another. Because _that's what happened_."

"Tess," Mia scolded. "That's enough. Your behaviour is very unbecoming for a princess."

Tess shrugged. "It's not like I could ever be queen of anything important, right? What does it matter what people think of me?"

"You are still a representative of Gilneas as a kingdom, whether you are in command or not."

"What kingdom?" Tess stuck her dagger into the table. "Our land is destroyed, almost completely sunken into the Great Sea."

"Tess-"

"I don't see why we even bother. Now that Father's dead-"

"Enough!"

Tess jumped slightly, then glared, pulling her knife from the desk, and stalking off.

Mia sighed, returning her attention to the wound in her son's shoulder. 

"Mother, I'm sure she didn't-"

"I know, Liam. I just . . ." Another sigh. "I hate seeing her like this."

"Me too."

The two of them sat quietly for a moment before Liam broke the silence.

"Did she know about Father?"

"No. We kept it from both of you. We just . . . We wanted to keep you safe."

"Of course. I understand. I just feel that perhaps if you had told us, we might have had . . . easier connections with him?" He put his head in his hand. "I don't know. I mean, _I_ was certainly shocked to find out, and she was admittedly much closer to him despite not having as much time together as I did. I'm sure she took this as a betrayal, whether she realizes it or not."

"I know." She finished bandaging his shoulder and stood. "But we mustn't dwell on what we could have done in the past, my son. We have to keep our eyes forward. That's the only way we can go, do you understand?"

Liam nodded. "Thank you, Mother."

"Of course. And know that I will be here for you when I can, alright? We're sure to be busy in the coming months."

He laughed once. "And the same to you." He took her by the back of the neck and kissed her forehead. "I should go find Tess."

"Be careful, love."

"I'll be fine, don't worry." He put on a jacket over his tunic. "I'll be back soon. I promise."

The princess had found a hollow log to sit behind and made a small campfire on the outskirts of the city. She held a small, faded portrait in a broken frame in her hands. Her mother and brother smiled gently up at her, but she and her father looked almost as though it was a degradation to be there, looking contemptuously up at her. She smiled when she saw it; they'd captured her well. But she wished the painter hadn't been so true to life. She wished more than anything to see her father smile.

"Tess?"

She whipped around when she heard her name, letting out a sigh when she saw her brother turn the corner of the end of the log. "What do you want?"

Liam sat beside his sister as she set the portrait on the ground and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "I wanted to make sure you didn't get yourself killed by furbolgs, for one."

She laughed once, but didn't smile. "I can handle myself, Liam. You know that."

"I do. But you're my little sister." He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I worry about you."

"You don't have to do that. You have enough on your plate now that you're king."

"I can't help it, Tessie. It's my job to protect you as your older brother and as your king." He nudged her with his elbow. "And also to drive you crazy."

"Well, you're certainly doing a good job of that. I'm running off into the woods to get away from you."

Liam smiled a bit. His gaze drifted to the portrait, which he lifted gingerly. "You kept it safe," he commented.

Tess nodded. "I needed something from home. I wasn't all that attached to it at first, but when he died,-" her voice cracked. She sniffled and sighed, almost angrily, then cursed under her breath. "I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be," he assured her. "This is a difficult time for all of us. For Mother, for our people-"

Tess looked up at him as she interrupted. "And for you?"

Liam paused for a moment, then nodded, looking down at the ground. "Yes." His voice was barely a whisper. "I miss him. I wish I could have taken his place-"

"Don't say that, Lee."

"But it's true. I've got no _clue_ what I'm doing. I just . . ." He sighed. "I'm seventeen. Seventeen-year-olds don't make good kings."

"Father was crowned at sixteen."

"Are you saying you want to take my place next year?"

"Light, no. You've only been king for a week and you look like you're nearly forty."

"Thank you," he said, monotone, "that's very kind of you."

She shrugged. "I'm just saying."

Liam smiled. He moved closer to his sister, and she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. "Promise me you won't get yourself killed."

His smile fell once more. "You know I can't do that, Tess."

"Yeah. I know." She grabbed her brother's arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Just say it anyway."

He sighed. "This is entirely off the record, alright?"

"Of course."

"Then I promise. I won't get myself killed. I'll stay alive for you and Mother."

"And for our people?"

"If I must. But the two of you are more important to me."

Tess smiled. "Don't let anyone hear you saying that. You'll be overthrown in a heartbeat."

"Then you'd better not snitch."

"I won't. It's bad enough with Father gone; I don't want to lose you, too."

"You won't." He kissed the top of her head. "I'm not going anywhere." 

* * *

"I'm incredibly grateful to you for allowing us to stay in the Keep, High King. It is truly an honour."

"It's no trouble, Lord Greymane. Your predecessors may have refused the Alliance's calls for help, but I know how difficult it is to lose both your kingdom and father. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you need. We have more than enough room, and I'm sure my son will be glad to have someone to talk to."

"Your son?"

"Yes; Anduin. He's growing into a fine young man. I have full faith he'll be a great king one day."

"How old did you say he was?"

"He just turned thirteen, actually. Only a couple of years younger than your sister."

"What's he like?"

"He's a very kind young man, that much is certain. I've tried to train him as a warrior, but he is undeniably drawn to the Light. Honestly, I sometimes worry about what will become of him after I am no longer here to guide him." He sighed, shaking his head as though to erase the thought from his mind. "But no matter." He stopped and opened a door. "This is where you'll be staying. If you need anything, you're free to ask any of the guards. No restrictions, just make yourself at home."

"Thank you. I owe you a great debt."

"No need for that. I'm sure we can figure something out, young Greymane."

Liam smiled as he entered what would be his room. "The offer still stands, Your Majesty."

Varian shrugged. "If that is your wish, then so be it." He paused, his ears twitching. "Do you hear that?"

Liam nodded, focusing on the faint sound of someone cursing and a quick succession of thuds, followed by the clanking of the guards' plate armour. 

The king sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That'll be Anduin, then." He muttered, striding off.

Liam, feeling a bit awkward in the large, unfamiliar bedroom, elected to follow the older man to the library. 

"Anduin," he called out coolly, "what are you doing?"

Anduin, a scrawny blond, was sitting on the ground, ignoring a man's protests against healing his injured leg. The golden light around his hands faded and the man hissed through his teeth. "I was trying to get down that book," he explained, gesturing to a large tome with runes etched into the leather binding, "but the covers had stuck to the books beside it and nearly everything on the shelf came down. A few of them hit Historian Llore so I was making sure he wasn't hurt too badly."

Varian knelt beside the man, Llore, and offered his hand. "Are you alright? Can you stand?"

"Yes," he replied, taking the king's hand. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"You're most welcome. I hope Anduin didn't cause you too much trouble." His voice took on a harsher edge. The prince smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh, he's no trouble. Just enthusiastic, as any other young man would be."

"That's good to hear." He turned to the guards. "Help Historian Llore put the books back on the shelf. Anduin, come with me."

Anduin turned, a bit nervous, to glance at Liam from the corner of his eye. Although he had assumed his human form to avoid any potential diplomatic tension (as well as for the sake of his own comfort), the scars across his face and his overall detached, cool demeanor gave him an air of someone who was not to be taken lightly.

Liam took notice of the boy glancing at him with something almost like fear in his eyes. He couldn't help but smile, offering a small wave as a sort of peace offering.

"Anduin, are you coming?"

Anduin jogged over to catch up. "Yes, Father."

* * *

Five years had passed.

Liam now sat in his room, staring at the portrait of his family while the city slept below. The cool wind brushed against his bare arms and back, contrasting the hot tears welling up in his eyes. He sniffled once, letting out a shaky breath, and lay down to face the opposite wall.

"I feel as though I've lost you all over again, Father," he murmured. "I wish you were still here with us. With _me_." He curled into himself. "Our pact with the Horde will not last long now that Sylvanas Windrunner has been put in charge of them. I fear for the fate of our world. If the Legion does not destroy our world, who's to say that we won't?"

He sighed, rolling onto his back to stare at the stone ceiling. "Not to mention the fact that Anduin's coronation is tomorrow. I would say I can only imagine how he feels, but we both know I've been in his shoes." He almost laughed a bit, but did not smile. "I can only hope that he does not slip into Shadow."

He dreamed of battle often.

Thunder would crash above. The rain would make the Prince's hair cling to his face as he whipped around to see the Banshee Queen taking aim at his father.

Liam's sword would clatter to the ground as he dropped to his father's side, taking his clawed hand. Sylvanas would say something, but he wouldn't be able to hear her over the clash of lightning and the blood pounding in his ears.

Mournful howls would pierce the darkening sky. The air would hang heavy around the Gilnean people, thick and suffocating, and Liam would want nothing more than to run as he watched his father's eyes glaze over. 

The king would wither, face sinking, and begin to dissolve as the rain pattered against his face. The thick, wet ash and dust would cling to Liam's hands as the howling continued, only growing louder and louder, deafening, filling every corner of his mind as worms and maggots surfaced to writhe in what remained of his father, inching ever closer to him. His people would fall into shadow around him, only their eyes remaining, all staring at him from the darkness.

But this time, the scene changed. 

He was on the Broken Shore once again; a boy of barely seventeen, his father's blood still wet and sticky on his hands.

"Get Windrunner's archers to clear the skies!"

The horn sounded, low and loud and clear, over the din of the clashing of swords. 

"She wouldn't . . ."

"I knew it!" Liam all but howled out of rage. "I knew it!" He fell to his knees, screaming at the dark green sky. "I knew it!" He dug his claws into the scruff of his neck.

The battle raged on around them.

"We can't do this," he realized. "We can't do this without the Horde. We'll be overrun. We're all going to die. We're all going to die!"

"EVERYONE," Varian bellowed, "FALL BACK! GET TO THE GUNSHIP!" He grabbed Liam's upper arm and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, Greymane, move your ass!"

His hands shook as he tried to climb the rope ladder. The slick blood on his hands made it difficult to get a grip, and even harder to keep it, but he followed his king as they fled the Broken Shore. But as Varian disappeared over the edge of the gunship and prepared to pull his young advisor to safety, Liam could hear wood splintering, and he was hit with a wave of unholy, suffocating warmth and ash from the right. The giant hand of a fel reaver began to pull the ship down.

He looked up at Varian, only to see his father. "Take my hand!" He shouted, and Liam did, only for it to fall apart in his grasp. He scrambled to grab on to the ladder once more as his father's face sank. Maggots and worms rose to the surface of his skin, emerging with little bursts of pus and landing in Liam's fur.

" **YOU FAILED ME, LIAM,** " his father cried. " **LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE. YOU'VE KILLED YOUR FATHER.** " He spoke with a thousand voices, all of which echoed in Liam's mind until he said something else.

"Father, I-"

" **LOOK AT WHAT HAS HAPPENED BECAUSE OF YOU,** " his father shouted, though his jaw was coming undone. " **LOOK DOWN BELOW. LISTEN TO THE SCREAMS OF THE MAN YOU USED TO REPLACE ME.** "

Indeed, Liam could hear Varian's screams ring out over all else. He flattened his ears against his head as he looked down just in time to see him burst with fel energy.

" **YOU REPLACED ME. TOSSED ME ASIDE AS IF I HAD NEVER BEEN YOUR FATHER. YOU ARE MORE STORMWINDIAN THAN GILNEAN NOW, AREN'T YOU?** "

"Father-"

" **YOU DID THIS, LIAM GREYMANE.** "

"I didn't! I did all that I could! I never wanted Varian to die, just as I never wanted _you_ to die, I just-"

Liam was lifted by the collar of his shirt to see that everyone on the gunship was staring at him. Gnomes, dwarves, elves, humans, pandaren, and his own people; the afflicted worgen.

" _ **YOU HAVE FAILED US ALL,**_ " they said in deafening unison, and Liam was released, left to fall to the ground.

He awoke in a cold sweat. The sheets lay around him in strips and tatters, and he could hear someone knocking at the door.

"Liam?" Anduin's tired voice was muffled through the door. "Is everything alright?"

Liam took a moment to regulate his breathing and shift back to his human form. "No, Your Majesty. I'm fine."

"May I come in?"

He paused for a moment. "Of course, My King."

The door opened almost painfully slowly. Anduin held a small ball of Light in his hand, brightening the room as he entered. A wave of peace washed over the worgen. "I heard shouting," the blond explained. "I had to make sure you were alright."

"You should have sent one of the guards," Liam said with a wry laugh. "You need your rest."

"As do you," Anduin retorted, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Do you remember that night in the summer when I was fifteen?"

Liam's smile fell. "Just after you'd returned from Pandaria. Yes, I remember."

"I said that I owed you."

"You owe me nothing; you and your father have housed and fed me for nearly six years."

"I had nothing to do with that, Liam. That was my father's decision."

"Would you not have done the same?"

"Of course I would, but-"

"Then the debt is repayed."

"Liam, listen to me."

The hard look in Anduin's deep blue eyes might have made Liam laugh a few years back, or even a few months ago. Instead he simply nodded with a sigh. "Go on, then."

The boy let out a deep breath. "I am the first and only child of Varian Wrynn. All my life, I have known that I was going to be king one day, just as you did. But now that I am faced with the reality, I am . . . unsure that I am ready. But what I _am_ sure of is that I want nothing more than to help my people. And, since I will very soon be High King of the Alliance, you are included when I say that."

"Anduin-"

"Let me finish. I know that I'm not as experienced as you. I'm not as wise, or as brave, or nearly as good with a sword, but I know that the least I can do is to be there for you."

"I'm supposed to be the one being there for _you_ , Anduin. I'm not the one who just lost my father."

"Aren't you?"

Liam looked down at his hands.

"In the time I've known you, you've become like a brother to me, Liam. A strong, intelligent, and just man who I could look to for advice when I couldn't go to my father."

"And when you simply didn't want to."

"Not the point. The point is that you've always been there for me, and I want to return the favour." He took the older man's hand. "We both lost him. We should be there for one another, Liam. And I know that you've always been there for me, so now I need to make sure that you know the same."

"Anduin . . ."

"Liam."

He looked up at the younger man- the boy, really. The same age he had been when Gilneas had fallen.

"I'll keep it in mind if you go back to bed, alright?"

Anduin smiled. "Alright, fine." He opened his arms briefly, and Liam quickly leaned forward to wrap his arms around the boy. 

"Thank you, Andy."


End file.
